


Rake'níha

by Omgthatsfun (orphan_account)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Afterlife, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Omgthatsfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Goodbye, Old Man. Until it comes time for me to join you-- then I will bother you once again." The reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rake'níha

"Ratohnhake:ton...Konnorónhkwa.

Konnorónhkwa."

The sounds slipped in and out of his mind. With each fading echo of the word he felt the pain give way to release. Waves smoothing away the shore.

The scent of grass surrounded him. Behind his eyelids, his sight flashed white, and every muscle in his body relaxed, as though someone were smoothing out a wrinkle with their finger. 

What had happened to the pain? The darkness? The throb in his head? Moments ago he'd smelled burning firewood and his wife's perfumed oils but now...

A breeze skimmed across his body, bringing with it the scent of flowers.

Connor cracked his eyelids open a fraction, and the sun's face stared back with all its force. He brought a hand up to shield his eyes and realized that, yes, he was now lying in a field, not his bed. Bleary eyed, he sat up, and twisted his head about, trying to get his bearings. The horizon blurred, his stinging eyes perceiving only a mix of fresh colors. 

Still a bit disoriented, he got on his feet. The pain in his side had gone.

Shocked, Connor looked down at his abdomen and rubbed his hand over the spot. It had been decades ago but he could practically see the chunk of wood protruding from his side. Yet, he'd stood up without a hint of pain. As though it had never happened.

Was he dreaming? 

"No, boy, this is no dream."

His head snapped up at the sound. His heart pounded wildly, and he could feel its manic beat in his ears. 

A few yards ahead of him stood Achilles, dressed in his red and brown, his eyes shaded from the sun by his hat. He approached Connor slowly, but without apprehension. 

How many secret hours had Connor spent by that headstone, rubbing the engraved words smooth and white with his hand? How many vulnerable moments were used to imagine the sound of the old man snoring downstairs, or his cane click-clacking across the floor? Or the smell of bitter okra cooking on the stove - that dish Connor always sneered at but realized he loved only when there was no one around to cook it? On some occasions, Connor indulged himself in the memory of old arguments, heated and frustrating, but nearly always ending with that old man giving him advice, encouragement, a rare smile? 

"This is a cruel dream."

Achilles sucked his teeth, and the sound brought Connor back to each time he'd exasperated the old man. Even decades later, even in this dream world, his muscles still flinched slightly, anticipating the whack of the cane that surely followed.

"I see time has done nothing to cure you of your stubbornness." 

There was the infamous cane, gripped lightly in Achilles' palm. He carried it with him, his back straight, his feet sure, shoulders proud. The sight of Achilles walking unhindered was painfully foreign to Connor's eyes.

Achilles stopped his approach and his demeanor grew more somber.

"Listen to me Connor. You are not dreaming. I'm afraid you've left the world of the living behind, boy. Now, it is time for you to rest."

There a sad gleam flickered in the old man's eyes, and a collision of emotions grasped at Connor's heart. His whole life was out of his hands now. His wife, his children, the brotherhood, the homestead....all of it. 

Achilles watched his face intently and Connor found that he had to look away from Achilles, and glanced down at his feet, then at the horizon. Connor rubbed his forehead. 

All the years he'd never get to spend with his children. His wife would be able to take care of herself and their children without any assistance, but worry still niggled at his heart. Perhaps it was just regret at all the years they'd lost. 

He ran his hand over his face and shut his eyes, breathing deeply. The recruits were strong, their hearts were good and the brotherhood was growing all the time. Connor liked to think that he had groomed them well enough. He was certain that Clipper would lead the brotherhood with confidence. 

That was it. There was nothing more he could do.

"Damn."

The weight of Achilles' hand rested on his shoulder for a moment.

And yet in that dense mist of ever familiar loss, there was Achilles. Just like he'd always been there for him, even when Connor's anger blinded him to it.

"So...you are here to guide me through this...afterlife?"

"Yes, Connor. And when the time comes, you will meet your family here and lead them to their peace."

Something in those sentences struck Connor in his still aching heart. Of course Achilles would be the one to meet him after death. He hadn't even questioned that it would be him standing in the field. Achilles would lead him through this just like he had in life - like anyone would for their family. A lump began to grow in Connor's throat and he willed himself to keep his gaze on the horizon, but couldn't stop himself from turning to look into his mentor's face.

Achilles' eyes were directed at Connor's chest. Connor had never known him to shy away from anything. He seemed tired, but in a way he hadn't seen often during life. He wasn't exhausted from training all day, or working his bad leg too hard. He looked as though he'd finally reached something he'd been waiting an eternity for. Connor realized that for all his pain at leaving the world, he felt the same way.

"Connor." His brown eyes flashed from Connor's chest to his face.

"It is my great regret that I never spoke to you properly before I died. I-" His adam's apple bobbed.

In the silence between them, Connor could feel decades worth of unspoken words bubble up. 

"My letter explained many things, but there is one thing I always wish I'd had the courage to share with you. I'm afraid I left you with so many burdens, so many troubles -."

"Achilles, -"

He raised his hand and silenced the younger man.

"I was proud before I met you, but you gave this old man something to be proud of. Watching you grow into those robes was a joy I thought I would never get to see. But you gave that back to me, Connor. I am grateful for every moment you spent in that forsaken house with me. You filled it with laughter and shouts when once there was nothing but silence."

Achilles rubbed at his face brusquely and Connor realized that both their faces were criss crossed with tears.

A smile blossomed across Achilles' face, "It seems old age makes sentimental fools out of all of us."

Connor's face split into a grin as he brushed away tears with his fingers.

"I am not so old as you."

"Boy, your hair is grayer than mine."

They both smiled like fools when Connor reached out and grasped Achilles in a hug.

"I've missed you, old man."

"And I missed you." He pulled away and scanned the sky.

"Now come, I had to fight like a dog to be the one to lead you across the fields and I swore I wouldn't take long." He turned his back on his pupil and began a path for the horizon, where the sun dipped to meet the earth. Connor trailed behind, watching with joy as his guide marched forward with the gait of a young man.

"Hurry up, boy!" 

A tingle crept up Connor's spine and he was filled with a strange new thrill as the reached Achilles' side at the edge of the meadows.

"Your mother has been waiting."

Together, they walked into the sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kinkmeme over at dreamwidth. The title means "dad" in Mohawk. Meant to contrast with what Connor calls Haytham: "rakeni" which means "father".


End file.
